


please just be quiet, and let me love you.

by nakamoto (kkeutkkaji)



Category: NCT (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: Domesticity meme, M/M, a very loose college au, hahaha, happy birthday meymey, idk this is basically just hansol and yuta being kind of gross and doing everyday couple things, it's short but hopefully sweet, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7056469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkeutkkaji/pseuds/nakamoto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>every little moment is like another irreplaceable puzzle piece of what makes up 'them'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	please just be quiet, and let me love you.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yusol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yusol/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEY  
> This is more of a character/relationship study than a story. It's made up of little snapshots of the way I think Yuta and Hansol would be together.  
> I hope you like it. Loooooove you.

**Big spoon/Little spoon:**

 

“I can’t breathe,” Yuta mumbles, trying to push Hansol’s strong arm off of where it was resting comfortably on the Japanese boy’s face.

“Oi,” he grumbles. Hansol, world’s heaviest sleeper, doesn’t stir in the slightest, so Yuta redirects what little energy he has into his legs, giving his boyfriend a hard kick in the shin.

The taller boy jolts awake. “ _Ow_ ,” he yawns into Yuta’s hair, eyes screwed shut. “What was that for?” he enquires fuzzily.

“Scoot back a bit,” Yuta instructs with a yawn. “It’s too hot.”

Hansol makes a vague humming noise in the back of his throat as he complies, shifting to give his boyfriend more room. He rearranges his arms to make himself more comfortable and drapes his left arm to sit nicely in the curve of Yuta’s waist, unable to shake his natural clinginess. He falls asleep immediately.

The air in the room is warm despite the whirring of their white ceiling fan and the light breeze filtering through a half-open window. The beginnings of morning sunlight has started to creep into the room and cast shadows on their banana-coloured walls, but Yuta is so comfortable in Hansol’s loose embrace that he goes right back to sleep without a second thought, pressing his face into the cool fabric of his pillow case and inhaling the scent of clean laundry and his boyfriend’s citrus soap.

 

* * *

 

**Who uses all the hot water:**

 

“ _Jesus fu—_ “ Hansol shudders as a waterfall of icy water careens onto his skin. He flips the tap closed, fingers shaking from the unpleasant shock. Frazzled, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel tightly around his waist before striding out of the bathroom and into the living room where his boyfriend and rather inconsiderate housemate sits bundled on the couch in a large blanket, watching reruns of CSI. 

Yuta’s gaze only lifts from the TV screen when Hansol clears his throat rather forcefully, glaring with as much contempt as he can muster.

(Given that he’s Hansol, that’s not very much.)

“You used up all the hot water,” Hansol scolds when his boyfriend turns to look at him. “ _Again._ ”

Yuta blinks.

He peers at the taller boy curiously, examining his state of undress, before his gaze finds a drop of water that’s fallen from Hansol’s damp fringe onto the plane of his toned chest. Yuta’s gaze follows the droplet as it slides from beneath Hansol’s clavicles, down the middle of his chest, over his smooth stomach, and down—

He swallows. Shuts the TV off. Grins lecherously.

“I’ll help you warm up,” he declares, and hops off the couch to shove Hansol back into their bathroom.

Later, when they are _both_ freshly showered and Yuta is back in his spot in front of the TV, Hansol sighs wearily. 

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” 

Yuta doesn’t respond, but Hansol knows without even looking at the other that there’s a massive, triumphant grin spreading across his face.

 

* * *

 

**Most trivial thing they fight over:**

 

“No.” 

“But _why_?”

“No. Not happening.”

“ _Hansol_.”

“ _No_.”

Yuta groans. “I don’t see why—“

Hansol shoots him a _look_. “You’re telling me that you really don’t see why it’s not feasible for us to name our _non-existent_ son _Sasuke_? Really?”

“I’m Japanese! There are real people named Sasuke! It could happen!” Yuta protests heatedly.

Hansol shakes his head. “My mother would hate it.”

“He’s _our_ son,” Yuta replies sulkily. “We can name him whatever we want.”

 _Dear God_ , Hansol thinks. “But I don’t want to name him Sasuke.”

“You’re boring,” Yuta glares.

Hansol shuts his book. “Why are we even having this argument? We’re in college. We don’t have a son.”

Yuta shoves his face into a couch cushion and mumbles something Hansol can’t quite make out.

“What was that?”

Yuta slowly removes the pillow and clears his throat. “I said, I’m just thinking about the inevitable future,” he answers gruffly, face heating up.

Hansol sucks his cheeks in to stop himself from breaking into the sappiest grin. Stretching over and leaving his book on the coffee table, he sits up and crawls over his boyfriend, caging the shorter boy’s hips in with his knees.

“I love you,” he whispers tenderly, before leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Yuta hums; content.

Hansol retracts and goes back to his book. He goes through about five pages in silence before Yuta is nudging his ankle with his socked foot.

“Mm?” Hansol says, looking up briefly.

“What about Kakashi?” Yuta asks seriously.

Hansol rolls his eyes and kicks him off the couch.

 

* * *

 

**Who does most of the cleaning:**

 

Sometimes Yuta feels these irrepressible _urges_.

And then he’s off.

Which is why there have been more than a few occasions during which Hansol has toed off his shoes and pushed open the door to their shared flat to find their living room floor disappearing beneath piles and piles of _stuff,_ with Yuta sat in the middle of this mess, inevitably distracted by some piece of memorabilia he found during the course of his impulsive cleaning mission.

“What are you doing, babe?” Hansol always asks, manoeuvring his way around all the things scattered across the floor with great caution.

Yuta shrugs. “I didn’t have a class so I was just lying around and then I noticed the bookshelf and I just… _felt_ like I had to… I don’t know. Clean.”

Any comments Hansol has about how Yuta always ends up making their little apartment even more cluttered than it was to begin with remain buried deep within the private crevices of Hansol’s mind.

“Want help?” Hansol offers, knowing that if he didn’t, the mess would stay where it was while Yuta flipped through old yearbooks and photo albums and handwritten birthday cards.

Yuta hums in agreement. “Yeah, we can do it together.” 

Hansol ends up putting most of the stuff back where he kept it all away the last time.

“I love cleaning,” Yuta says happily when they’re (read: _Hansol_ is) done, hours later, and they’ve ordered in Chinese for dinner and put on a film. "I feel so accomplished."

Hansol snorts fondly to himself.

 

* * *

 

 

**Who has control over the TV:**

 

“It’s not _just_ a television,” Yuta had said reverently when they went out to buy one for their apartment. “It’s the key to _life_.”

He wasn’t exaggerating when he said that, Hansol had realised very shortly after they had hooked it up.

Yuta keeps their TV, affectionately named Alice, in pristine condition. He cleans the screen with a mixture of 50 per cent distilled water and 50 per cent isopropyl alcohol every 2 days without fail, and is _extremely_ finicky with anything that goes near the screen and could potentially damage it.

Hansol’s never seen such dedication. 

But if Yuta’s intense with Alice’s upkeep, he’s absolutely _impassioned_ when it comes to actually watching stuff on her. 

He’s actually got a sheet of paper with the airtimes of all his must-watch shows taped to the wall above the TV; a schedule he follows without fail every day. _A Tale of Two Sisters – 10am, Naruto Shipudden – 3:30pm, Abnormal Summit – 6pm, Masterchef – 9:40pm;_ it’s all written out, according to day of the week and time. Hansol has seen with his own eyes the consequences of not keeping to this schedule. He does _not_ want to go there, _ever again_. 

It doesn’t really matter to him, because he doesn’t care much about the tech he uses to watch something. If Yuta’s using the TV to watch something or other, Hansol has no qualms watching his show on his phone or laptop. It’s no big deal. 

Yuta doesn’t understand this concept. 

“What are you doing?” his face scrunches up in confusion as he observes Hansol watching a drama on his tiny phone screen.

Hansol pauses the video. “Watching Descendants of the Sun.” 

“Just watch it on Alice! It’s so much better on the big screen! You’ll ruin your eyes if you keep staring at that thing for hours,” Yuta declares. Hansol’s heard this lecture multiple times. 

“It’s 5:30, though,” Hansol points out. “It’ll eat into Abnormal Summit if I watch it on Alice.” 

Yuta considers this. 

“It’s okay,” he answers, tilting his head in contemplation. “I’ll record it. We can watch that together.” 

Hansol is surprised. “Really?” 

“Don’t tell Dongyoung,” he mumbles, spinning around and heading for the TV. “I yelled at him the other day because he wanted to continue watching Cowboy Beebop even though Naruto was about to start. He called me a TV Nazi.” 

Hansol laughs. “You _are_ a TV Nazi.” 

Yuta throws his hands up in protest. “The TV is the key—“ 

“The key to life,” Hansol finishes for him. “I know. We _all_ know.” 

He settles into the couch next to his boyfriend. “You’re noisy,” he says, bumping their shoulders together. “Let’s watch.” 

Yuta just smiles and leans his head on the taller boy’s shoulder.

 

* * *

 

**Who calls up the landlord when the heat’s not working:**

 

“Ah, noona! It’s me! Yuta!” Yuta greets jovially when their landlord picks up. The call is on speaker. 

Hansol rolls his eyes. 

“ _Yuta-yah!_ ” she cries back. “ _How are you? Did you like the hotteok? I’ll buy more.”_

“Yeah, it was so good! The green tea one was my favourite!” 

“ _Good, good! I’ll bring some over tomorrow!”_

Hansol feels a light headache starting to bloom from all the noise. 

“Thanks, noona,” Yuta smiles. “Anyway, noona, I actually called because there’s a slight problem.” 

“ _Problem? What happened? Is everything okay? Should I come down and check?”_

“Ah, no, noona, that’s okay. It’s nothing big, it’s just that the heating in our apartment has gone out,” Yuta explains. 

“ _Aigoo. That’s terrible! You must be so cold! I’ll call the management now and make them see to it! You keep warm, okay? Drink some soup!”_

“Thank you, noona,” Yuta replies. “Take care.” 

“ _You too! Call any time!”_  

The call ends.

Yuta laughs at the scowl on Hansol’s face. This happens every time Yuta calls their landlady. 

“Don’t be jealous,” Yuta teases, wrapping his arms around Hansol’s waist. 

“You always let her baby you,” Hansol grouses. 

Yuta grins. “What? You’re the only one allowed?” 

Hansol doesn’t reply, arms folded crossly. 

“ _C’mon_ ,” Yuta murmurs. “I’ll stop, okay? I won’t be so friendly. I can’t help it. She’s a really nice lady. But I’ll stop,” he says. 

Leaning forward, Yuta gently presses his lips against Hansol’s, trying to channel all the reassurance he can muster. Hansol is still for a few beats, before curling his fingers into the soft material of Yuta’s sweater and pressing back.

It starts off slow, but Hansol finds himself itching for more. 

He nips at Yuta’s bottom lip, making the shorter boy gasp at the sting. Hansol curls an arm tightly around Yuta’s waist, shifting to better accommodate the kiss, before leaning closer and deepening it. 

Hansol bites lightly on Yuta’s bottom lip again before sucking on it gently to ease the soreness. The choked sound Yuta makes in the back of his throat only spurs Hansol on more, and he drags his tongue over the seam of his boyfriend’s lips almost impatiently. 

Yuta opens up without hesitation and buries his hands in Hansol’s hair, pulling him impossibly close and sliding their tongues together. Hansol’s breath hitches in his throat as he breathes harshly through his nose, not wanting to break the content. 

Yuta’s fingers tighten in his hair as the kisses become more frantic and Hansol slips a hand underneath Yuta’s sweater, stroking lightly over his hipbone. Yuta finally runs out of air and breaks the kiss with a wet smack, flopping back and breathing raggedly. 

He pulls on Hansol’s sleeve and the taller boy crawls over him, leaning down to suck harshly at the juncture between Yuta’s neck and shoulder, earning him a shuddering gasp that goes straight to his groin.

Hansol presses a palm hard against Yuta’s hipbone, holding him in place, while his free hand tugs Yuta’s sweater up to his armpits. Yuta squirms as the hand trails roughly over his exposed chest, across his stomach and down to his upper thigh. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes out, hips lifting unconsciously as the hand shifts to put pressure right on his— 

The doorbell rings. 

“ _Maintenance!_ ” Someone calls from the outside. “ _We’re here to take a look at the heater!”_

Hansol reluctantly pulls back and runs his hands through his hair and over his face, attempting to make himself look decent as he stands to answer the door. Yuta curses up a storm as he flops off the couch and walks shakily to their bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

God _dammit_.

 

* * *

 

 

**Who steals the blankets:**

 

Yuta always wakes up freezing during the colder months. 

A few hours after waking up, once he’s showered and put some caffeine into his system, he recognises that his boyfriend is tall. Simple math and logic tells him that Tall people require more blanket because they have more exposed surface area to account for. All this makes _perfect_ sense to Yuta, about 3 hours after being roused from sleep.

In the immediate moments following his return to consciousness, though, his brain can’t seem to recall any of this basic theory. 

Which is why he may or may not (information may vary depending on which sources you refer to) have kicked Hansol out of their bed on multiple occasions in order to reclaim his deserved share of the duvet.

He’s not proud of this. 

But Korean winters are really fucking cold, okay? 

Give him a break. 

After it happens a third time, Hansol decides that desperate measures have to be taken. They’re not speaking to each other, because Hansol hasn’t technically done anything wrong and thus does not understand why he’s being made to absorb the blame, and Yuta is too proud to admit that kicking people for unconsciously not sharing is wrong. 

Hansol hates the silence, though, so in the middle of this cold war, pun not intended, he puts on his coat with a sigh and takes the bus to Lotte World to buy another blanket.

When he gets home, Yuta pounces on him the moment he steps through the door.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Don’t leave.”

Hansol colours, chuckling as he returns the hug. “I wasn’t going to leave, idiot. I went to buy another blanket. Now we don’t have to fight.”

“Oh,” Yuta says dumbly.

“Come on,” Hansol says, shucking his coat and tugging on Yuta’s sleeves. “Let’s take a nap.”

Yuta hums and follows.

The new blanket situation works spectacularly.

 

* * *

 

 

**Who remembers to buy the milk:**

 

Hansol pushes his reading glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he scans the piece of paper.

"To be honest," he says to the director, rubbing the back of his neck, "We never buy milk. Neither of us drink it."

Mey frowns. "I could've sworn I saw milk in your fridge, though."

Yuta shakes his head. "That's Taeyong's milk. He buys it for when he sleeps over."

"Oh. I see," she nods. "Well, I suppose that's this segment done."

"Sorry," Hansol apologises. "I always buy the juice, though, if that helps."

Yuta clicks his tongue. "We go grocery shopping  _together_. You just coincidentally put the juice in the cart each time. That doesn't count, Sol."

Hansol shrugs, and smiles at the PD. "You heard him."

She laughs. "Fair enough. Okay boys, take five and we'll move on to the next scene."

They both hum in agreement.

 

* * *

 

 

**Who remembers anniversaries:**

"Hyung!" 

Hansol turns to see Dongyoung waving him over. He's successfully managed to secure a lunch table despite the massive crowd.

“Thank god for you,” Hansol breathes out as he sets his tray on the table and slumps into a chair. “I was starting to get desperate.”

Dongyoung grins. “Yeah, I was really lucky. Professor Shim called in sick, so we just had to collect our assignment details and then we were free to go. I came early and snagged a table.”

“Nice,” Hansol acknowledges, slapping his palm against the younger boy’s in a congratulatory high-five.

Just as Hansol starts on his rice, two more chairs are dragged out.

“You’re a god,” Yuta says to Dongyoung reverently, sitting down gratefully.

“Dammit,” Dongyoung lowers his chopsticks. “Could you say that again? I have to record it.”

“Too bad,” Yuta sticks his tongue out. Taeyong laughs.

“What are you guys, 5?” he rolls his eyes.

Dongyoung scoffs. “Says the guy with the Rilakkuma pencil case.”

Taeyong glares. “Yeah? Well I’m not the one with an Ash Ketchum lanyard for his dorm access card.”

“Fuck. You,” Dongyoung spits, narrowing his eyes.

“That’s _hyung_ to you—”

“Shut up, assholes,” Yuta breaks up the fight. “You’re stressing Hansol-hyung out.”

Dongyoung and Taeyong exchange a final glare before Taeyong focuses on his ramen and Dongyoung turns to Yuta.

“So. Today’s the big day, huh?” he smiles.

Yuta blinks. “What big day?”

Taeyong looks up from his bowl, mid-slurp. Finishing his mouthful in shock, he looks to Hansol. “Y’know?”

Hansol shrugs. “Is something supposed to be happening?”

Dongyoung and Taeyong exchange a look.

“Nah,” Dongyoung shakes his head. “My bad.”

Later that evening, Hansol and Yuta are curled up together on the couch when their phones both buzz with a message from Dongyoung in their group chat.

 

**WHY IS DONGYOUNG EVEN IN THIS GROUP**

[6 members: i hate dongyoung forever; hansoul; i hate taeyong forever; Uchiha Itachi’s Main Bitch; Johnsus; te_en]

 

**i hate taeyong forever**

announcement

**i hate taeyong forever**

yuta and hansol are stupid as fuck!!

**Johnsus**

thats not even new information

**te_en**

true

**te_en**

I can’t believe this is real though lol

**Uchiha Itachi’s Main Bitch**

What

**i hate dongyoung forever**

happy one year anniversary morons

**i hate dongyoung forever**

how you even lasted this long is a mystery

**Uchiha Itachi’s Main Bitch**

What the FUCK

 

“IT’S OUR ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY?” Yuta jolts up, clutching his phone. Hansol hasn’t even bothered to open the chat.

He shrugs, pausing the DVD.

“Who cares?” he says. “One year is nothing to a whole lifetime. I’m always going to love you.” 

Yuta sets his phone carefully into the coffee table and crosses his legs, facing his boyfriend. He ducks his head, letting out a shuddery breath.

Hansol’s eyes widen. “Hey, no,” he soothes. “Are— Are you crying?”

Yuta sniffles. “It’s just that—” he answers shakily.

Hansol slowly feels himself going red. He hadn’t really intended to say all that; it had just sort of slipped out. He meant the words, though. He had been thinking them in earnest for a while.

Yuta sighs, scrubbing furiously at his eyes. “It’s just that— Those were Itachi’s _dying words_ to Sasuke. You know Itachi makes me _really sad_ ,” he moans.

Hansol blinks.

 

**WHY IS DONGYOUNG EVEN IN THIS GROUP**

[6 members: i hate dongyoung forever; hansoul; i hate taeyong forever; Uchiha Itachi’s Main Bitch; Johnsus; te_en]

 

**hansoul**

we broke up

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BDAY MEY LOL HERE YOU GO  
> Thank you for reading!  
> I've started writing some other fanfic but it's Yuta/Taeyong because they're my true otp heuheuheu. So there's that. See you guys soon.
> 
> y-ta @ tumblr


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